


Assorted Spells

by Quiet_Shadow



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Drabble Collection, Ficlet Collection, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-30
Updated: 2016-12-30
Packaged: 2018-09-13 10:43:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 554
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9120127
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Quiet_Shadow/pseuds/Quiet_Shadow
Summary: Drabbles and ficlets about Harry Potter and the wizarding world and its inhabitants in general.





	1. Prompt: Harry Potter and Sirius - Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After the war ends, Harry returns to Grimmauld Place...

It wasn’t easy, really. None of it was. Coming back to Square Grimmauld was bad enough, but having to try and sort through Sirius’ meager possessions, and then find the flacon filled with a silvery liquid… Harry swallowed dryly, sitting cross-legged on the floor -- which was less dusty than before; obviously, Kreacher had started cleaning the house again with more enthusiasm.

Ron and Hermione had proposed to help, to stay with him, but… it was something he needed to do himself. It was something he felt was private. Besides, there were still plenty of things to sort through, and now Kreacher was being helpful (if still very defensive of the Black family heirlooms and had to be promised they weren’t going to throw them away, just put them in storage, we promise, after all we wouldn’t want to break them accidentally, and why don’t you show us where we could put that vase?) and Voldemort and his Death Eaters weren’t a problem anymore, they could finally do it. Molly had offered to help as well and so had Kingsley, and a number of the Order’s survivors -- help and turn the old Black House into a truly habitable, hospitable place, but he kept declining.

It definitely was something Harry needed to do alone. For himself, for Sirius, and for the memories he had left.

Now, if he could just find a Pensieve…


	2. Prompt: Luna Lovegood - Defense against the Dark Arts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hogwarts teachers always found Miss Lovegood peculiar...

Most teachers aren’t sure what to think of Miss Lovegood. She was certainly most… unusual. The ones who had been old enough to know her parents during their own years at Hogwarts, be it as teachers or as classmates, usually just shrugged off the matter. They had, after all, experienced first hand both spouses’ unique brand of weirdness and/or unusual beliefs. Their daughter could only inherit them, they reasoned.

Of course, the brutal death of the child’s mother before she entered Hogwart may have played a part in shaping her distant, quirky personality, but nobody dared to truly breach the matter. Xenophilius Lovegood wouldn’t have listened or wouldn’t have understood the concerns, and young Luna seemed fine, if a bit extravagant. Besides during her First, then Second year, they had had more pressing matter to attend to -- namely a series of petrification, then an escaped convict and an army of Dementors.

Besides, they had reasoned, her unusual beliefs and vacant personalities didn’t seem to affect her grades -- asides of the few times she used them in her essays, giving whoever had to correct them an headache or a good laugh, depending on the teacher. Especially in her Defense Against the Dark Arts classes.

Professor Lockhart had always groaned and looked up and down at her homeworks, wondering where it had come from before shrugging off the matter and giving her a note at random -- usually a good one, what’s with being a former Ravenclaw himself and not sure if she was pulling his leg or not. Professor Lupin had been more serious, and deeply amused, keeping copies for the sake of entertainment while being a good critic of her works. Professor Moody had hit the bottle -- or the Polyjuice Potion, it was hard to say.

As for Professor Umbridge, she systematically graded them T. Not that Luna minded; obviously, with so much Narggles in her head, the poor woman couldn’t be impartial.


End file.
